crstfandomcom-20200213-history
Through Eyes of Ice, My Killer Awaits
Note This is a pasta made by my older brother. You can find him on deviantart! His profile is Idontplaynicekid The Pasta My name is Jennifer Vonlivewitz; I'm a doctor here at the asylum, I talk to the patients, iron out their problems, maybe help them reform; something makes people crazy, though I'm not sure. I'm here because, well, my father went crazy; he was in here for years until dying due to unknown causes. Yet, he wasn't always insane, something made him that way. That's why I'm here to see what makes people that way, and fix it. Lately, I've met a certain patient, sent her on terms of insanity; he's killed multiple people, a typical homicidal maniac, I fear for the worst when he comes in, come to think of it, he comes in today. I've recorded a few of our sessions, observe the genius of this man, his words cut through me like a hot knife through butter; I doubt he's insane, just all too wise for us to comprehend. Session 1: Sept-11-08. 9:30 pm "Hello, Mr. Frostenzim", I spoke words so comfortably back the, I was unaware of what his cruel mind fathoms at this time, I was used to homicidal psychos, but ones like him gave me a trembling feeling; this I should've known when he looked me down with his blue, ice-like eyes; as cold as his soul. "Ms. Vonlivenwitz, you're as pretty as a remember," his eyes trained on me, looking for any sign of needle, any fluid I'd try to put in him, as his eyes thoroughly searched me; he found no such thing, yet he smiled as he looked me dead in the eyes, portals to hell, like his victims screamed inside the ice of his iris. "That's odd, how do you know my name?" I had been alarmed, not as much as I should have taking his extreme calmness, he spoke to me with such casualness, as if he and I had been friends sometime before his conviction. "I've seen you around, a few of the loonies around the asylum tell me about you, it's quite hard not too; either go to Dr. Crackner, or the sweet one; you. Glad I got you Doc." His smile twisted his normally calm face, a grinning inmate was what the doctors here wanted to see, and while looking at this man; all I got were chills, far from anything I'd want to see. That was the first day I met him, we only chatted, he seemed preserved, but after I got a hold of his records, my mouth shot open in horror. A silent scream flowed from my mouth. Here is said, his main cause is for killing an old time friend he had argued with, torturing him until he was on the verge of death, and then crucifying him to a large oak tree in the man's parents ranch; Jack Leavings. His parents found the body, the tree labeled "The ol' family tree". He even did a bizarre thing, signed his work like an artist into Jack's hip. It seemed as if he wanted to get caught, but he was labeled insane for a reason. I questioned him the next day about this. Session 2: Sept-12-08. 11:45 PM "So here in your record, you murdered a Mr. Jack Leavings; it was rather brutal as it described it. You forced sand paper down his throat, why was that?" My words were cautious, angering him could send him into a near blind fury, he'd strike out at me, allow me to be one with Jack through pain, and feeling "He pissed me off, why else? That stupid fucker said he'd knock my head clean of my shoulder, twist the damn thing off. So I paid him a visit, beat the living shit out of him, took him into the woods, beat the living hell out of him, tied him down, and then showed him that hell. That stupid ass mother fucker had not a damn clue; fucking good ass time!" He had gotten a grin across his face, he laughed quite a bit after telling me the story, and he seemed surprised that I didn't share his humor. Though when he stared back at me...I saw a whole different look. I was speechless on what to say to him; thankfully the guards took him back to his cell before he could continue. I began to wonder, what else could he have done to that family- what could this lunatic do to them? Could he maybe pull them apart, the whole lot of them, maybe even take pictures of him killing them off, chop them up into pieces, then send the pieces, and the pictures to the surviving members, until they were all a family of tin, body parts, and blood? Next he began to get overly friendly he shared with me some things, but one struck me as odd, I'll fast forward the recording to the most interesting part. Session 3: Sept-13-08 "HA! Leavings and I were buds back in the day; childhood friends. He loved his dear old uncle, god did he love that old boy....so before I killed him, and after our argument I was helpin' the man with his wood chipper, I "accidentally" bumped him, and he tried to catch himself, hands and all the way up to his elbows, I pulled him out, picked him up. I had to find him an ambulance, but I decided differently, Jack, that asshole pissed me off so bad, I put his uncle feet first into the chipper, damn did he scream. Yeah guards, you heard me, that was ME!" His voice was over confident, he taunted the guards, they could do nothing to him here, they wouldn't even raise their nightstick to him, or even move from their place; glancing over at me, his pride was shining through, and his ice cold eyes, giving me a case of frost bite. Then he proceeded to explain his physical fight with jack. "He fucking punched me in the face, so I bit his fingers off, and made the a necklace he wore when I crucified him..." The guards had enough; they took him out of the room rather quickly, without a sound. I didn't sleep well that night, the events that had transpired haunted my dreams, before I went to bed, a necrotoxin of imagery shot through my conscious, I could see it happen, curse his use of words, his description was his tool of torture for me. Now I must speak with him today, he requested an audience, it's been a few months since I've seen him; I was hoping for longer. Session 4: March-18-09 "Yes? You needed to speak with me?" My words shook terribly, my voice could not hide my fear for him; his sadistic eyes took much pleasure in watching me suffer, too horrified to speak, but I managed a few words. "I just wanted to tell you how lovely your apartment is. That cat you have, it's adorable, really, is it a calico? Anyways, what a nice complex of apartments, I wish I could live there. You go home every night, a nice cup of black coffee, and the cat on your lap." he had said this so rehearsed, like they were lines of a play, he tilted his head to the side, waiting for a response, his smile still cold as ever; his eyes seemed to be darker now, like the inside of thick ice; how the smug gaze tore me apart, the inside of my very soul was on his strings, a puppet to watch dance. "H-how do you know this, how do you know so much!?" My voice rose, he had not batted an eyelid, all he said was exactly right, he didn't miss a single detail; he knew my life and my apartment, what else could he say? He had already brought me down; he had cut my very sanity level down to his. "Apartment 112, Parker Drive apartments. Nice place, really nice; that lamp must be an antique, such beautiful cut glass, it is truly hand made, and the detail of the humming birds on the flowers is exquisite, such fine taste you have." He had described the lamp, the lamp near my window, it's shade's gorgeous cut glass, it was an antique, now my heart sank, the window; was he a stalker, but how would he know so much, how had he even learned this much in little over a year? "Shut up!! Tell me how do you know, why are you telling me this!?" My voice was in a frantic state of panic, my heart beat was insanely irregular, yet, he only stood there, a smile, a twisted smile crafted from the hands of the demons of hell, and designed by the devil. The terror in my eyes was like candy to him; his mouth must taste sweet, while mine was dry, and bitter. Now my heart was racing, his was too most likely, but in excitement. Now his eyes gleamed, his head tilted at a quite odd angle, his body was obviously altered in some way, his mouth opened, the words he'd tell me next broke me, and they wrapped around my throat, and strangled all sound from me "I don't know how I know so much, honestly, I'm just a stunt double, he wanted me to tell you this; Kaden Frostenzim's message for his dear old doctor, he seemed excited for you to hear the message. Don't look surprised, he was a surgeon, he had plenty of time to make another him; the guy works fast; I'll give him that." Category:Diary/Journal Category:Dismemberment Category:Mental Illness